Too Close to the Sun
by Redemption-Rank5
Summary: SLASH LucienxOC "Fly too close to the sun and you'll only be burnt. You're playing a dangerous game Bosmer." The story of one Bosmer and his strange love affair with Lucien Lachance
1. Addiction

**AN: **

Hello everyone! First up... You all have my sincerest apologies for the uhh... half-year wait for this! . My major complication is that I fell out of the fandom for a bit, as well as losing access to Oblivion itself... However as of 2 days ago I aquired the game again, and I'm now firmly obsessed by it as before!

Right.. So, here you have it. The all new revised edition of A Kiss Before Dying I am so much more happy with the way these chapters have been written, and I also hope that my skills as a writer have improved from last year. This chapter and part of the next were written a while ago, but I doubt my writing style has changed quite that much, nor do I care to re-write again ahaha. For those loyal ones who still follow this, I hope you enjoy the revised version. Looking forward to finally getting this written. )

**Enjoy**

**--**

Drunken laughter filled the dimly lit inn, as a pair of hazel eyes stared lazily into a flickering oil lamp.  
"I can sell you the lot for five silver,"  
The owner of the eyes yawned widely and flicked his gaze to the side to meet that of a grinning khajit.  
"Going cheap tonight aren't you? Guards onto you or something?"  
The khajit looked afronted, "I'm just doing you a favour Dalamar,"  
Dalamar rolled his eyes towards the ceiling before grinning, "Whatever... Your loss," Reaching into the tattered leather shoulder pack beside him, the youth pulled out five silver coins and deposited them onto the wooden table infront of him. With a satisfied smirk the khajit handed over a small wrapped parcel, and scooped up the coins.  
"I appreciate... Hey!"  
Dalamar, glanced up at the khajit with a raised eyebrow. The boy's deft fingers were already undoing the straps holding the package together. The khajit frowned and glanced quickly around the room.  
"Couldn't you wait until you're somewhere less public!?"  
The youth snorted and shook his head, his black hair swaying with the movement.  
"No."  
"And why not?" The khajit hissed.  
Dalamar shrugged, "I need it now," he stated. With that he finished undoing the ties that held the bundle together and rolled it out on the table.  
"You're too careless, Bosmer," The khajit snarled under his breath.  
Dalamar ignored him and picked up the first vial in the package. He pulled the stopper from it and in one fluid movement downed the contents. The khajit glared at him and eyed a nearby table of off-duty guards warily. The young bosmer ignored him, savouring the effects that were starting to take ahold of him. Every nerve in his body seemed heightened, like liquid power was running through his veins leaving his vision sharp and his senses alert. Dalamar grinned, this high that the drug skooma gave him was what he lived for, this power... He could do anything!

Peering out from beneath his lashes, Dalamar examined the khajit opposite him. The khajit's ears were pinned back and his eyes narrowed. Dalamar twisted in his seat and glanced behind him.  
"... Shit,"  
A few tables away, an off-duty guard was gesturing to his partner them whilst glaring at them suspiciously. The khajit turned towards him,  
"I told you not to be so fucking careless! I'm off!" Standing abruptly the khajit turned towards the exit and hurried out. Dalamar stood and made to follow him, but froze as he felt a hand clench around his arm.

Turning, Dalamar looked up into the face of the guardsman who'd been staring at him.  
"And where do you think you're going in such a hurry lad?"  
Dalamar tried to wrench his arm out of the guard's grip but was no much for the larger man's superior strength. Heart beating wildly he settled for glaring defiantly at the armour clad Imperial.

With his other hand, the guard grasped Dalamar's chin and gazed disdainfully into the Bosmer's eyes. Frowning the guardsman turned to his partner,  
"Looks like we got ourselves another Skooma addict... Gods he just reeks of the stuff."  
The other man, leered at Dalamar before snorting in amusement.  
"What's it gonna be kid? You gonna come quietly with us?"  
The guard laughed menacingly. "You can always put up a fight... I could certainly use the entertainment!"  
Dalamar glared at them, and once more atttempted to free himself of the man's grip. Silently he swore at himself, why couldn't he have just waited til he was outside to take the damn drug?

A sudden blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling across the floor. Dalamar sat up clutching the back of his skull, his vision spinning. Next thing he knew, he was face to face with one of the guards. The large imperial was holding him up by his hair, and his feet were dangling almost a foot off the floor.

Dalamar bit his lip with the pain and with slight trepidition, opened an eye to look at the half drunk guardsman. The man opened his mouth to speak, and Dalamar could clearly smell the alcohol on his breath.  
"Not so cocky now, are we?" the guard sneered mockingly.

Dalamar closed his eyes anticipating the guard to hit him, and opened them in suprise when he felt himself placed back on the ground. The guard latched his hand onto Dalamar's upper arm hard enough to bruise, and smirked.  
"I think I few weeks in the cells should be enough to cure you of your attitude kid,"  
The guards started to drag the Bosmer towards the exit.

Dalamar sighed inwardly, he'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. He braced his heels on the wooden floorboards, and glared as threatningly as he could manage.  
"No."  
The simple syllable stopped the guard in his tracks. He turned and surveyed Dalamar out of one eye.  
"What... Did you say?"

Dalamar swallowed nervously. "I said I'm not coming with you."  
The guard as well as his partner turned to face Dalamar fully.  
"Is that so?" The Imperial said softly. Lightly fingering the mace at his side, he stepped towards the Bosmer. "Well elf, if that's the case then I guess..."

He never finished his sentence, for at that moment Dalamar slammed his hands against the guards chest, intending to use a simple fire spell.

He wasn't prepared for the column of flame that engulfed the guard and stumbled backwards against the wall staring at the flames disbelievingly. The guard's companion stood on the other side of the flaming mess, mouth hanging open wide.

Dalamar watched, eyes wide as the flames dispersed and saw a charred mass of flesh and muscle fall forwards, landing at his feet with a dull thump. Time seemed to stand still for a moment as both Dalamar and the guard stared in disbelief at what once was an officer of the city watch.

Dalamar's mind was a blur, he didn't notice the flames slowly starting to lick up the sides of the wooden building. He didn't hear a woman's scream cut through the night. He didn't hear the sound of a man calling the watch outside. He didn't stop to think, just ran. And ran.

-


	2. Rebound

**AN:** Quick updates... yay.

**Enjoy.**

Dalamar rounded the corner breathing heavily. He closed his eyes briefly to try and calm himself slightly. The attempt was futile, both the skooma and the adrenaline pumping through the boy's veins set the Bosmer on edge.

Hearing shouts and footsteps drawing closer, Dalamar was off again. Scaling a wall with little difficulty, Dalamar used his naturally agile body to fling himself onto a nearby roof. He sank to his knees, his harsh breathing and thumping of his heart sounding in his ears.

He had killed a city watchmen. If he hadn't been in enough trouble before, now he certainly was. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd done it. The spell that he had used was one of the few he knew, not powerful in the least. How had it gone astray like that?

A sudden, blazing pain in his side tore Dalamar away from his thoughts and to the matter at hand. The guards below had found his temporary hiding spot, and an archer was readying another arrow in his bow. Without thinking, Dalamar acted purely out of instinct.

Gritting his teeth against the pain from the arrow wedged into his ribs, Dalamar stood and called upon the energy inside of him. Magicka flaring, the black-haired Bosmer thrust his left hand down towards the guards. Through his roughly cut fringe, Dalamar could see the crackling white energy swirling around destroying everything in it's path.

He could hear the screams of the people on the street and the call for reinforcements. Dalamar leapt from the roof he was on, onto one of walls separating the Imperial City into it's many districts.

-

Lieutenant Alahn Smythe watched wide eyed as he saw a command of Imperial Legion soldiers fall under a blazing whirlwind of raw magic. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the small figure leap off the building onto the 15 foot wall in front of him.

Skylined against the moonlight, Alahn saw that the fleeing figure had distinctly pointed ears. Coupled with his height, it was obvious that he was a Bosmer.

Yelling to the shocked soldiers behind him to get reinforcements, Alahn gave chase.

The Bosmer looked over his shoulder too see Alahn running below him on the ground. Again the Bosmer thrust his hand hand to the side, sending a bolt of magical energy towards him.

It was wildly aimed and Alahn had little trouble in dodging it. It hit the wall behind him instead, sending stone and rubble flying.

Keeping his eyes on the Bosmer, he saw the boy leap over the wall and out of his vision.

Alahn swore and started running towards the nearest gate to the next district.

The doors were open, and citizens were pouring out through them. Pushing his way through, Alahn saw the Bosmer sprinting towards the exit to the city. The boy was sending magic in every direction, leaving a wave of destruction behind him.

Stepping over the chunks of stone spread around the place, Alahn signaled frantically to two battlemages infront of him.

"Silence him!"

One of the battlemages pulled out a rod of what seemed to be polished black wood, and aimed it at the Bosmer. A single beam of blue light shot out towards the boy, causing the light in his hands to die at once.

Immediately the other mage, threw his arm towards the Bosmer, sending the boy's body flying into the wall.

The first mage sprinted over bearing the spelled shackles used for capturing renegade mages.

Kneeling next to the boy's seemingly lifeless body, the battlemage drew both of the boy's arms behind his back and locked the shackles into place.

Alahn sighed in relief, breathing loudly. Thank the Nine, it was over.

-

Dalamar awoke feeling distinctly uncomfortable. His arms felt unpleasantly numb, and his body ached all over. He made to move his arms out from under his back and found that they were locked in place.

Opening his eyes, Dalamar groaned.

A flickering torch sent waves of scattered light through the bars of his prison cell. Out of his sight he could hear the slight snoring from presumably either another prisoner or the guard on duty.

Closing his eyes again, Dalamar reflected upon the past few hours, days? How long had he been out for?

Stupid, stupid, stupid! He thought. How on earth had he got himself into this mess?

Thinking about what had happened sent a wave of nausea towards his stomach.

How had it all gone awry like that? He hadn't meant to kill or even seriously injure that guard, he just wanted to get away, once he was on the streets he could have easily lost him in the maze of the Imperial City slums.

An odd sound from the other side of the cell brought Dalamar away from his musings. Something, or someone behind him was _laughing_.

Flicking his eyes open, Dalamar gritted his teeth and rolled over to see... nothing?

Just a stone wall stained with something dark that Dalamar didn't really care to examine further.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying to fend off his impending headache. This was it he supposed. He was simply going to live out the rest of his days in a dank cell. Though judging by the way his body ached and his head felt like it was about to split open any second, he was betting that those days were severely numbered.

"That was quite the show you put on back there, elf."

Dalamar groaned. Great... He was already going insane. He laughed softly, he hadn't realised that voices in peoples head were allowed to be so damn cocky sounding.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," The voice commanded softly. "You've already rested for four hours now, I'm not that patient."

What? Dalamar's eyes snapped open and focused on where the noise was coming from.

What used to be a black wall was now most definitely not. It was black and substantial. It also appeared to be breathing.

"Huh..?" He mumbled intelligently, sparking a laugh from the older man sitting back leaning against the wall across from him. The stranger was simply dressed in a black robe, his brown hair pulled back off his face into a clean ponytail. His face frowned in mock disappointment.

"That's all you have to say to me? So much effort to sneak in here too, just to speak with you,"

Dalamar watched him warily, wincing inwardly as his head throbbed with the effort of concentrating.

"Who are you?" He managed finally.

The strangers face stretched into a smirk, his expression rivaling that of a cat who has cornered it's prey.

When he spoke his voice was so soft that Dalamar had to strain to hear it.

"My name is Lucien Lachance... And you Bosmer, tell me... Who are you?"

Dalamar stared at him dumbfounded,

"Me?" He snorted. "Why?"

Lucien's smirk faltered slightly.

"I admit... Your little display earlier caught my interest. It's not every day someone of such small stature blows up part of the Imperial City,"

Dalamar ignored the jibe, and closed his eyes again.

"I didn't mean to,"

Silence.

Curiousity piked, Dalamar cracked open one eye again to glance at Lucien. The older man was staring down at him with an unreadable expression in his eye. Letting out a sigh, Lucien slowly rubbed his palm across his forehead letting his fingertips rest on the side of his face.

"So Bosmer, pray tell... Just _what_ did you mean to do?"

Dalamar scowled, "What's it to you anyway?" He whispered.

Lucien laughed quietly, "Simple, I'm curious." He leant forward until there was barely an inch between their faces. "Realise Bosmer, that it's in your best interests to just play along,"

Dalamar glared at him, feeling uncomfortably cold with the hard stone floor pressed against his side, and his right arm growing numb.

"And why would that be?" He snarled, frustrated.

Lucien sat back against his wall again, smirk firmly in place. "Where are you from? Valenwood? I wager this cell's a bit different to the forest."

Dalamar gazed at him sullenly.

"What are you getting at Lachance?"

If possible Lucien's smirk grew wider.

"Face it." He purred, voice smooth as woven silk. "You're going to _die_ in here."

Dalamar shifted his gaze to the side. It was true after all.

Silence again.

"So do you have a name?"

Dalamar didn't bother to open his eyes this time.

"Dalamar." he murmured

"Dalamar..." Lucien repeated the name thoughtfully. "Tell you what, Bosmer... I have a proposal for you,"

Dalamar groaned, barely hearing the man's words. Gods... His head felt like it was being smashed against the ground with a smithing hammer.

Lucien stood, pulling the hood of his robe over his head as he silently observed the wood elf on the floor in front of him. Without a word he scooped up the smaller figure and with a moments concentration, felt the cool sensation of invisibility seep over him.

Dalamar was a dead weight in his arms, the elf had fallen unconscious again.

**-**

**AN:** Please leave a review and tell me how you think it's going ae


	3. Revelations

**A.N **Hello guys! That's right I haven't actually fallen off a cliff and died! But I have returned with a new chapter. It's been too long... But as I'm possibly the world's worst procrastinator I think you'd better get used to it ._. Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed, your input is always welcome, and it DOES actually encourage me to write more! I hope you all like this chapter.

It was the smell of cooking meat to which Dalamar awoke to that morning. Blearily he cracked his eyes open taking in smudged shades of pink and orange on the horizon. Reaching up a hand to rub his eyes, he quickly stiffened as he found them bound in metal. He rolled over wildly and let out a gasp as sharp pain shot through his side. Feeling the other's gaze on him, Dalamar sat up gingerly. He eyed the other man warily, as Lucien gave him a moments bemused look before returning his attention to the hunk of boar meat currently roasting over the campfire. Dalamar's stomach rumbled as he breathed in the scent of cooking meat. It had been a while since he'd had a decent meal. However the sight of the other man brought back the sketchy memories of the previous night. He inwardly cringed as he remembered the chaos that had taken place; the fire, the magicka, and the cocky bastard, who from the looks of things had busted him out of prison.

"Good morning,"

Lucien's voice cut through the Bosmer's thoughts and brought him back to the present.

Dalamar met the man's gaze and nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak. In the pale daylight Lucien did not look half as threatening as he had in the dimly lit prison cell. He was simply dressed in dark brown breeches and a black cotton shirt, and his hair was still in the neat ponytail. The laces on his shirt were half undone giving Dalamar a small view of a well toned chest.

Seemingly satisfied with his cooking, Lucien took the meat off the makeshift spit and with a small knife sliced up some into a bowl with a hunk of bread.

"Eat," he commanded, placing the bowl beside the Bosmer before moving behind the boy and removing the shackles.

Dalamar didn't need to be told, he grabbed the food and began eating with as much gusto as only a starved man can. Lucien regarded him for a moment before settling down with his own bowl and consuming the contents at a much slower pace.

They shared breakfast in silence, each one lost in his own thoughts. It wasn't until Lucien stood up that Dalamar started, once again on the defensive. Lucien gazed down on him his eyes unreadable.

"Take off your shirt,"

Dalamar stared back at him.

"What?"

"It wasn't a question, now take it off... We're leaving as soon as I've looked at that wound,"

Not wanting to anger the older man, Dalamar complied and tugged his tunic off. Lucien knelt next to the elf and gently washed the dry blood away with a damp cloth. The wound was deep but Lucien was sure it would heal in time. Taking a roll of bandage and a jar of ointment from his pack, Lucien spread the salve over the wound before bandaging it tightly around the the Bosmer's lower ribs. The elf was silent during the procedure, the only sounds being quick intakes of breath when Lucien pressed too firmly around the injured area. Once he was done Dalamar turned to thank him before he was roughly pushed to the ground with the Imperial's knee in his back. Before he knew it his hands were behind his back and he was once again bound with the silence enchanted shackles.

"Useful things these, aren't they," Lucien quipped.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" He snarled into the dirt, "Let me go!"

Lucien regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

"And have you burn me to a crisp? I think not,"

Dalamar stared at him in disbelief before shaking his head and standing up. Lucien smirked at him then went about packing up the makeshift camp. Once finished with that the Imperial strode off into the trees returning with a large, black horse. Ignoring Dalamar's protests, he grabbed the elf and threw him with ease into the saddle where he sat nervously wishing he could use his hands to hold onto something. After securing his pack behind the horse's saddle, Lucien mounted up to seat himself behind the Bosmer and squeezed the horse's sides urging her into a fast walk.

Noting the elf's discomfort and lack of balance atop the animal, he slung his right arm around the smaller frame while keeping his left hand on the reins.

"Her name is Shadowmere," He stated, eyes on the approaching road ahead of them. Dalamar did not reply and they rode in silence for several minutes. Lucien almost didn't hear the younger man when he murmured,

"Who are you?"

Lucien gazed down into the Bosmer's mop of dark hair, he hadn't bothered to look at the older man.

"I believe I have told you my name," He remarked lightly.

He could almost feel the elf's exasperation.

"Name yes. _Who _are you though? What do you do? ... What has _anything_ got to do me?"

Lucien remained unfazed through the elf's barrage of questions. After a moments silence and Dalamar almost thought he wasn't going to reply, he found the mans lips so close to his ear, he could almost feel them moving.

"What do I do? Why that's simple" He whispered, "I'm a murderer."

Dalamar stiffened slightly at a loss for words.

"And as for you," The man continued, as if he had simply been remarking on the weather, "You caught my interest... And things that catch my interest, I find are usually worth investigating further,"

Dalamar swallowed nervously.

"Where are we going?"

Lucien inhaled slowly, taking in the forest around them and the golden light slowly rising in the east.

"All in good time Bosmer,"

There was a slight pause and then,

"Do not worry Dalamar... Had I wanted to kill you, you would be long dead already"

* * *

The sun was high in the sky before the elf spoke again.

"You don't strike me as a murderer,"

To Dalamar's surprise Lucien laughed; a deep, rich sound.

"Perhaps I use the term too loosely," He said, amusement lacing his voice. "I am much much more than a murderer," His tone turned serious once more "And you...pray tell, what were you doing last night hmm? Tell me your story and perhaps I will share with you some of mine,"

Dalamar relented, it wasn't as if he had much of a choice anyways.

"There is not much to tell," He began, frowning at the memory. Lucien listened to the Bosmer's tale, he himself frowning silently. What had happened was obviously the result of untrained magicka surging as could happen when the mage was under tremendous emotional strain, coupled with the fact that the elf was high on skooma. But the power... The sheer raw power that he could feel emanating from the elf when Dalamar had been fleeing. He gave the Bosmer a calculating look. Raw magic was why there were so few truly powerful mages around. So few lived to be able to receive proper training. The boy was lucky to have escaped with just a headache. But if he could be trained... Sithis knew what he could achieve. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't noticed that said Bosmer had twisted in the saddle and was staring at him as if waiting for a reply.

"Lachance?"

Lucien snapped his focus to the younger man.

"Yes?" He inquired, staring intently into Dalamar's hazel eyes for a single moment.

The Bosmer didn't flinch and stared back somewhat sullenly.

"My arms have gone numb... Will you believe me when I say I have not the means nor the inclination to burn you to a crisp, and remove these shackles?"

Lucien regarded the elf silently. He saw no malice nor fear on the man's face, only a guarded weariness. Making his decision he gently steered Shadowmere off the road and into the trees a little way.

"One is unlikely to come across those bearing ill will towards travelers in these parts," he told Dalamar. "Yet I feel no need to take chances,"

Dalamar nodded his assent and after Lucien had dismounted, he descended with gracefully with the litheness of his people.

Once Lucien had released him of the shackles, Dalamar stretched, feeling the cramp in his arms and legs fade.

Following Lucien down the gully towards a small brook, Dalamar examined the man ahead of him. He looked no older than thirty summers certainly. His cheekbones framed his clearly defined face and he was lean but not skinny, unlike Dalamar whose body showed all the signs of drug abuse and starvation. Thinking about the drug made the dormant cravings inside him raise it's head hopefully. Damn. He'd have to do something about that. In the middle of the wilderness his chances of finding skooma were next to nothing. Wrenching his mind away from the skooma he called out to Lucien who was filling his waterskin from the brook.

"You never told me your story Lachance,"

Stoppering the waterskin, Lucien fixed his eyes upon the youth.

"Tell me what you know of the Dark Brotherhood, Bosmer,"

He walked back up the gully with the now full waterskin, Dalamar following thoughtfully behind.

"They say that... It is guild of assassins, if you kill someone they come to you in your sleep." Dalamar stared at the other man. "It's how they recruit new members,"

Reaching their resting place, Lucien lay back on the grass and closed his eyes.

"So it is,"

Dalamar sat down near him and continued to stare.

"You said you were a murderer..."

"And so I am,"

Dalamar glared at him.

"So what? You're a member? Stop being so cryptic Lachance!"

Lucien cracked open one brown eye to meet his gaze. Dalamar met his cool, calculating stare unflinchingly.

"Know this Bosmer. Every Dark Brother and Sister is a child of Sithis. He whom we call Sithis has many other names. Chaos. Doom. Discord. Sithis is the Void. We of the Dark Brotherhood serve the Night Mother, who is the bride of Sithis. The Night Mother rules her children with a terrible Black Hand. The Black Hand is the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood. It is made up of one Listener and Four Speakers. Four fingers and a thumb, if you will. I am a Speaker for the Black Hand... Part of my duties as Speaker is to seek out such individuals that show promise and offer them membership into the guild."

By now both of Lucien's eyes were open and searching Dalamar's face intently. Dalamar scowled and looked away.

"Whatever you're implying, I'll have you know that I ain't never killed anybody," He choked slightly, "Not in cold blood anyways,"

"Would you though?"

When he got no reply Lucien continued.

"Do you know what it's like to hold the power of Life and Death in your hands Bosmer? It is incredible, a gift from the Dread Father Himself."

Dalamar suddenly found himself face to face with Lucien's boots. Standing he faced Lucien's gaze head on, an impressive feat considering he barely reached the man's shoulders.

Lucien smirked, a strange look in his eyes.

"I can offer you everything Dalamar, payment, shelter, food, a family... Or if I wished it, I could kill you where you stand,"

Before Dalamar could draw breath, there was a black dagger at his throat. Lucien ran the tip leisurely up underneath his chin, gently forcing Dalamar's head back.

"In one hand I hold Death," He whispered, his voice almost a caress. "And in the other I hold Life," He held up his left hand empty for Dalamar to see, and then extended it towards him. "It's your call."

Determined hazel eyes locked with brown. Without breaking his gaze Dalamar grasped Lucien's left hand.

"I choose to live,"

Lucien smiled. Drawing the dagger away from the elf's neck he placed it in Dalamar's left hand before gripping it with his own.

"Welcome to the family."


	4. Refuge

**A.N: **Hello my pretties. I am once again back with a new chapter. As always, I apologise for the slow update, but I think we all know what my procrastination's like. However rest assured, that this is the last 'introduction' chapter we have. Chapter 5, and we're going to be getting somewhere! I'm looking forward to it.

Thankyou to everyone who reviewed, you give me the warm fuzzies.

* * *

It was well into the evening before the two travelers stopped to make camp. Lucien had insisted that they spend the remainder of the day riding hard and fast, unable to spend much time tarrying on the roads. By the time they stopped, Shadowmere's sides were drenched with sweat, and she stood flanks quivering, foam gathering at the bit. Lucien unsaddled her and sent Dalamar to search for firewood. After they had set up a fire and eaten, Lucien regarded the Bosmer thoughtfully.

"Do you know how to use a dagger?" He inquired softly.

Dalamar shook his head in a silent no.

"I didn't think so," The Speaker continued. He stood up and sauntered over to his pack, removing two daggers. One of them was the black one he had handed to Dalamar earlier. Once again he passed the blade to the dark haired Bosmer. "This is yours now. I'm not sure what your aptitude for blade work is, but never the less, only a foolish man would allow himself to practice with only one type of weapon. The ability to defend yourself with anything at hand is one of the most important skills you can learn,"

Dalamar nodded. He had never used a blade against an opponent before, preferring instead to use his natural reflexes and quick movement to get away. Lucien seemed to read his mind as he gave him a shrewd look.

"It is true though, that agility will be to the advantage. _You_ will never win a contest of brute strength,"

Seeing the elf holding the dagger as if he had no idea what to do with it, as indeed he hadn't, Lucien quickly fixed his grip before settling into a low crouch.

"First rule of close combat, or any combat really... Always be prepared to move," He gestured towards Dalamar. "Go on, attack me"

Dalamar stared at him a moment before awkwardly thrusting the dagger towards Lucien's stomach, stopping short of the target by several inches. He needn't to have bothered as Lucien had nimbly sidestepped the attack and was now at his shoulder.

"Don't hold back," He advised the elf. "You wont hit me yet," He smirked lightly, making Dalamar scowl with irritation. With more vigour this time, Dalamar swiped towards the man's chest. He blinked when he met only thin air. The Bosmer whirled to his left watching Lucien warily.

Once again he thrust the dagger towards Lucien then swiped the blade in an arc to the right, trying to follow Lucien's swift movement. Lucien's smirk was firmly in place as he ducked and avoided every stroke that Dalamar threw at him.

Finally after a minute of this Dalamar relented, breathing heavily. Lucien walked up to him, a small smile playing about his lips.

"More comfortable handling the thing now?"

Dalamar nodded, looking fixedly at Lucien.

"How do you do that? You know where my every attack is going to be,"

"In an inexperienced swordsman, the movements of your body are a complete giveaway... I simply read the signs and move to avoid them. It is essentially the most basic and effective form of defense,"

Dalamar nodded,

"Let me try," He stated, wanting to prove himself.

Lucien inclined his head in assent. Deliberately slowing his attack and making the movements almost painfully obvious, he thrust the knife towards the elf. Dalamar, to the other man's approval, managed to sidestep the attack and watched Lucien, waiting for any sign of his next move. Lucien smiled grimly, good, the elf was a quick learner. He had much to learn and not much time.

Following through with his attack, he swung the dagger to his right anticipating Dalamar to jump backwards to avoid it. To his surprise the Bosmer instead chose to skip behind him.

"Good choice," he stated. "Instead of jumping backwards and allowing me to keep my eyes on you and chase you, you put yourself in my blind spot, giving you the upper hand,"

Without warning he twirled the knife in his hand and thrust it into the air behind him. A quick intake of breath told him he'd narrowly avoided the elf.

"You need to watch for that though,",

They continued like that for several minutes. Dalamar's reactions getting faster and more assertive as he gained confidence. Seeing the young man tiring, Lucien stepped forward, and before the elf had a chance to react, he found the dagger point at his throat.

Dalamar stared wide eyed at him for a moment before his face stretched into a grin.

"Yield,"

Lucien smirked gently at him.

"Not bad for a first time elf,"

* * *

The first four weeks of his new life as a member of the Dark Brotherhood were some of the most surreal Dalamar could remember. He had been welcomed into the sanctuary like an old friend, at least by the large orc, Gogron gro-Balmog. That first night he'd felt like he'd consumed his own body weight in mead. Cheap, nasty stuff, just strong enough to knock you out after drinking several flagons of it. Needless to say the next morning Dalamar had awoke to a splitting headache not unlike the night he had met Lachance.

He hadn't seen the egotistical Imperial since he'd been dropped off at Cheydinhal sanctuary without even a word of goodbye. The argonian that seemed to be in charge of the place, Ocheeva, had told him imperiously that _Lucien_, Dalamar scowled as he remembered how the woman had deliberately stressed his first name, had highly important matters to attend to and trusted _her_ to run the sanctuary.

She had cuffed him when he asked what those matters were, and Dalamar privately thought that if Lachance thought she was important as she claimed then why wasn't she helping with them also? He knew better than to voice those thoughts out loud though. She was far stronger than he was, and wasn't above putting him in his place physically if she thought he needed it.

In fact it seemed like everyone here was stronger than him, not that he was expecting any different, but Dalamar caught himself wondering on more than one occasion just _why_ Lachance had brought him here. He didn't know much magic, and he wasn't powerful... the night at the Imperial City had just been a fluke. He wasn't strong, in fact compared to the rest of the family members he was bordering on frail.

Dalamar scowled. It wasn't his fault. He wasn't meant to fight, he'd never had to before. Always relying on his quickness and slight stature to get him out of tight spots. Since he'd arrived, Ocheeva had made him train daily in the small room set aside for such purposes. He had to do more dagger work with her and a bubbly blonde woman by the name Antoinetta. Press ups and strength training under the amused eye of Gogron. And, he allowed himself a small breath of laughter at the thought, magic training with the sanctuary's resident Khajiit. Possibly the most obnoxious person Dalamar had ever had the pleasure of meeting. When Ocheeva had taken it upon herself to inform Mraaj-Dar about his new duty, the Khajiit had stared at her dumbly for two whole seconds before bursting into loud, raucous laughter. He had turned away from Ocheeva, and walked off still laughing to himself, barely sparing a disdainful glance for Dalamar who had stood quietly to the side watching.

Since then, all he received from the Khajiit was amused snorts, glares and muttered insults. Once when he had gotten a bit too close when passing in a corridor the Khajiit had actually taken a swipe at him, claws and all. It'd been due to Dalamar's quick reflexes that all he received was a shallow gash on his cheek, rather than losing an eye.

He'd secretly hoped that Mraaj-Dar would be called out on his open hostility, but it appeared so long as it wasn't bothering anyone else, such disputes were between the parties involved. Antoinetta had laughed herself silly when he had mentioned the incident to her.

"Aww, such a mean old pussy cat!" she'd giggled, before smirking at him lightly. "I don't know why he's got it out for you really Dalamar. He's always been perfectly nice to me,"

Dalamar wasn't so sure of that statement, he'd seen the Khajiit pin his ears back and spit at her as she had walked past him in the common room only last Tirdas. Nevertheless he supposed he ought to let Antoinetta believe her little fantasies if it made her happy. It was nice to have someone that he could relax with after all.

Mraaj-Dar he could deal with. As long as he avoided him, the Khajiit made no attempt to hassle him further.

It was his fellow Bosmer, a woman by the name Telaendril that really made his stomach churn.

The first time he'd met her, he'd first been struck by her height. She was tall for a Bosmer, almost as high as Lachance he thought, if not taller. For all she seemed to preach her Bosmer lineage, Dalamar secretly wondered if she did not have direct Altmer ancestry. It would explain her haughty attitude as well. But it was not her height, or even the holier-than-thou attitude she carried with her that unnerved Dalamar.

There was something wrong about her he thought. Something in that cold, calculating gaze of hers, that she only masked up when talking with Gogron or Ocheeva. Even then, Dalamar could see a slight twisting of her lips that spoke to him of contempt.

She didn't mask it around him though. The few times they had spoken, he could tell she thought him laughable. He was, he supposed - a white sheep among black. A small, weak Wood Elf alone in a guild of ruthless assassins. That's what they were of course, he had to keep reminding himself. Murderers.

Telaendril though... He needed no reminders there. He could see the way she watched him, like he was an annoying bug that needed to be squashed.

Luckily enough though, it seemed that most of the time Telaendril seemed avoid the sanctuary. He wondered at times what she was up to, but when he asked Antoinetta one time she'd shrugged and said simply that they were their own people and not confined to the sanctuary.

* * *

It was after those four weeks that Dalamar slowly began to settle down and find himself at peace in the sanctuary. His life seemed to be settling into his daily routine just fine, in fact, he didn't think he could remember having the security the sanctuary brought him. Always having a bed to sleep in, food, and company. In hindsight, he should've remembered. There's always a price to pay.

It came in the form of a folded missive. Dalamar knew what it was before the thing was even in his hands. One look at the dancing red eyes of the vampire, Vicente Valtieri, and the oddly pensive expression on Antoinetta's face as she watched the exchange and he knew. A cold weight settled in his stomach, as he realised he was about to become a murderer.


End file.
